My dad is a great story teller and as far as I can remember there are stories that I have always heard him tell. About his childhood, how he met my mother and where he was when he heard President Kennedy was shot and killed. No stories have made more of an impression on me than his “journey” to Vietnam.
It starts with that Saturday morning in 1966 when he was working at my grandfather’s store and everyone stopped working. He looked up to see his mother standing before him with tears in her eyes and clutching a letter. He has often said that he knew the moment he saw her face he knew she was holding his draft letter. My dad’s best friend from childhood, Erasmo Palos was the first person from our home town killed in Vietnam. I know the name well because my dad spoke of him often. They grew up in the neighborhood, hung out together and were the best of friends. Although Palitos, that’s what my dad called him, died in Vietnam not for one moment did my dad consider running to Mexico or burning his draft card in protest. He traveled to Louisiana for basic training, married my mother and soon thereafter departed for Vietnam.
I tried for many years to get my dad to tell me about his “true” experience in Vietnam. I know that on December 16, 1968, (his birthday) he had the honor of attending a performance given by Bob Hope. The only other entertainer he mentions is Anne Margaret – go figure. I know he started lifting weights in Vietnam – a practice he continues to this day. He often said that to keep your sanity you either used drugs or worked out, he chose the latter. He talked about the rain, the Red Sea and other mundane things about day to day life there. He however never talked about war. He even told me that because he is bilingual he was assigned to supply and never saw any combat. I have learned that was not the case – won’t go into how. One item ingrained in my mind is that you always drink beer when you eat pizza. Reason being is that the soldiers were served beer and pizza on the flight back from Vietnam. The flight that ended their service in Vietnam. He had never tasted pizza before that moment, but he often recalled it as the most delicious meal he ever had and the beer as the most refreshing.
There are many other stories that I have heard throughout my life. Now that I am a grown woman I understand my dad so much better and can’t even begin to imagine what he went through in Vietnam. I appreciate the sacrifices that my dad made for his country, his family and my freedom. When one member of the family goes to war, the entire family joins him or her. As I think about Veteran’s Day I reflect on my dad and the effect that war had on his life, his destiny and the life of his family. I love him, appreciate him and honor him. I thank all veterans but especially my dad. Through his bravery, sacrifice and love he has taught me the importance of honoring all who serve their country. If you appreciate your freedom, thank a Veteran not just on Veteran’s Day but every day and at every opportunity.
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